


Stark Naked

by PapuruKakugan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Porn, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Sex, Blowjob (mention), Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Dom/sub Undertones, Fisting (mention), Full Shift Werewolves, Knotting, M/M, Orgasm Delay, POV Alternating, Pornstar Stiles, Pornstars, Rimming (slight), Rough Sex, Safewords, Shifted Sex, Top Derek Hale, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Kink, Werewolf Sex, domination kink, pornstar derek, pornstar stage names
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9609062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PapuruKakugan/pseuds/PapuruKakugan
Summary: Stiles’ voice is low enough that only Hale can hear as he purrs and leans closer, “No, you’d be my first. The first ‘wolf I’ve worked with.” Stiles smiles wide and bright as a pleased rumble echoes from Hale’s chest. “You’d be the first to knot me.” Stiles wants to punch the air when Hale’s eyes flash red and the pitch of his growl changes minutely. He laughs, “Oh, this is gonna be awesome,” Stiles says as he leans even closer. Hale’s eyes go slightly hooded and Stiles doesn’t miss the way they rake up and down his body, lingering too long on his neck. Stiles bares it slightly as he peers over Hale’s forearm to snatch a glance at the paper.After finding what he’s looking for he turns his head to look at Hale, their faces only a few inches apart. Stiles purposefully licks his lips and breathes in on reflex when Hale’s eyes follow the slip of his tongue, hazel eyes slowly bleeding red in obvious interest.Stiles’ voice is almost a whisper as he breaks into an excited smile, “Let’s go make some porn, Derek.”





	

Stiles heard him coming well before he saw him. The building almost rattled with the force of the doors slamming closed behind the approaching werewolf. It was only testament to Stiles’ sheer _want_ to shoot the scene with him that he stayed rooted to the floor of the set still being built around him.

It was short timing, to be honest. The whole thing had been rushed in a matter of days, and Stiles’ agent had put the pressure on for an answer within 24 hours. The two previous actors selected hadn’t gotten along at all. _At all._ There was blood apparently.

So whilst the previous human and werewolf actor duo were being held in custody and undergoing interrogations, the directors, producers, and casting officers had scoured their contacts for anyone who would work with a werewolf, and find said werewolf who wouldn’t tear the human to shreds.

Not that Stiles had much fear of being torn to shreds. Everyone else’s fear for his safety was just a leftover misconception of werewolf psyche. Stiles knew the truth; that when it came down to it, werewolves were nothing more than overgrown puppies with a major possessive streak. Fear of getting mauled on a full moon? Give them a good scratch and let them rub their scent all over you. Piss one off enough to make them shift? Stand your ground and don’t give in; they actually approve of that. Feel the need to avert your eyes and simper to their ‘superior’ species? Fucking grow a pair a treat them like a normal person; because they _are._

Stiles has long since known that the public perception of werewolves and their culture was severely skewed, to the point where the thought that they lived in prehistoric huts and constantly had blood dripping down their chins was the norm. Okay, he also knows that they let loose now and again; they shift into a wolf and hunt, they play fight and fuck and sleep under the stars. But that’s just going a bit native, it’s not their default setting. Who doesn’t want to go a bit feral now and again?

The first time Stiles had seen a werewolf was when Scott’s eyes suddenly lit up gold and each hand was tipped in claws. Scott then proceeded to have a panic attack and look like a kicked puppy. Stiles spent two hours cuddling his now furry best friend as he whimpered and rubbed his nose into Stiles’ neck. It was a definite shock as Scott _hadn’t_ been bitten, or scratched.

It was only when Rafael McCall came for an unwelcome visit, and Scott suddenly bolted when he caught his scent, that the truth was revealed. Scott didn’t smell anything like his father because they _weren’t_ related. Melissa broke down crying and admitted to Scott that the final straw between her and Rafael was when she cheated on him, too alone and miserable from his neglect. Rafael never knew Scott wasn’t his, and that all Melissa knew about the father was that he was a werewolf with amazing eyes.

So Scott being born a ‘wolf and the sudden influx of instinctive nature was a shock, but it didn’t change how Stiles viewed him. If anything it made him laugh when it became easier to compare Scott to an excitable puppy. A puppy that would scowl and punch Stiles in the shoulder before cracking a grin and flashing his eyes. Then promptly grovel for forgiveness about the developing bruise on Stiles’ poor human flesh.

They had kept it a secret between them for years, too worried about the public (or more likely, the student body) suddenly deciding Scott was a threat or something to be teased and ridiculed. So Scott, Melissa, Stiles, and the Sheriff, because how could they keep _that_ a secret from Beacon Hills’ finest, were the only ones who knew about Scott’s full moon problem. And nothing changed. Nothing at all. They carried on through high school and college, gaining a few friends along the way. Scott got a girlfriend; a Kitsune, Stiles lost his virginity; discovered he was more inclined to XY chromosomes, Scott achieved his childhood dream of being a vet; and spent more time cooing over the sickly animals than he did at home (not that Kira minded as she was a vet and frequent cooer at the clinic herself), and Stiles… Well, Stiles achieved something else. Something his father is still very, very unhappy about.

A career path that made him suddenly so very grateful to Melissa and Unnamed Werewolf for producing his best friend, because what just burst onto the set would have struck fear into his heart like it has everyone else in the room. Because _that_ , ladies and gentlemen, is an Alpha werewolf in Pissed Off Mode.

Stiles could _feel_ his blood rushing south and his body buzzed in excitement when he laid his eyes on the delectable form that looked poised to snarl at something. ‘ _At least we're getting off to a good start’_ , Stiles thinks as the Legal advisor, Marian, next to him approaches the new arrival. She’s calm and collected on the inside, but from the way he can see the werewolf’s nose flare from scenting Stiles knows Marian is one twitch away from cowering in submission.

Stiles wants to rant about werewolf equality, misconceptions and _pre_ conceptions, and demand to know just what they were thinking about hiring a werewolf for this if they’re so bloody scared of them.

Instead, he just groans and covers his face with his hand as Marian stammers out a greeting, “M-Mr. Hale?” Her eyes are wide and there’s a few seconds silence until the werewolf in question, ‘Mr. Hale’, seems to realise Marian actually wants him to answer. She gets an eye roll and a quick nod.

Marian clears her throat, looking down at her clipboard and trying to avoid eye contact with seeming too meek. “You’re here early – which is good!” She hastens to add. Stiles snorts. Mr. Hale raises an eyebrow at him. “I just need you both to sign some documents then you can get r-ready.” Marian seems to realise just what they’re going to get ready for and all but shoves the pile of documents into Stiles’ hands before striding out the door. ‘ _Probably going to hyperventilate in a corner’,_ Stiles thinks.

Hale’s jaw clenches and he scowls in the general direction of the door. Stiles wants to offer a placating word but feels he would only be rebuffed; this dude’s probably had enough of humans’ opinions for a few lifetimes.

So Stiles sighs, gets a handle on his low-level arousal simmering in the background and reboots his brain to function in society again. He offers a small smile to Hale and gives him one of the staple bound documents, “Here, this is the one you need to sign.”

Hale frowns and nods at the two that Stiles is holding for himself, “Why have I only got one?” He asks.

Stiles shrugs and sets the small pile of paper on a rickety stack of boxes to use as a table, he takes off the pen cap with his teeth and replies around it. “One’s the same as yours, you know, standard shit. The other’s just a legal waiver in case shit hits the fan, or you hurt me, or _turn_ me...” Stiles trails off as he finishes off the flourish of his surname.

He’s reading over some of finer details of the thinly scripted scene on the next page as he holds the pen out absent-mindedly for Hale to use but looks over when Hale doesn’t take the pen.

“You alright?” Stiles asks, just as he realises he still has the pen cap in his mouth.

Hale nods to the documents Stiles has just signed, “Are you sure? You have to sign something that says you can’t sue for damages in case I hurt you. Aren’t you at least a _little_ worried?” Hale seems genuinely confused as to why Stiles isn’t anything but accepting of the situation.

Stiles sighs through his nose and shakes his head with a rueful smile, “I know you’re not out to hurt me, and I know you’re not just going to turn some random stranger and invite them into your pack. Unless you’re feral, in which case-” Stiles gestures to Hale’s attire of leather and denim, “-clothes probably wouldn’t make an appearance.” Stiles ends with a shrug and offers the pen again.

Hale takes it with a soft movement and keeps an eye on Stiles as he skim-reads over the contract and signs at the bottom. “You’ve done this before with a ‘wolf then?” There’s something terse about the words, and Stiles knows full well this guy’s possessive streak has just reared its head. ‘ _Game on’_ , he thinks. He cocks his hip and moves a step forwards, Hale’s nostrils flare as Stiles allows his arousal to bloom again.

Stiles’ voice is low enough that only Hale can hear as he purrs and leans closer, “No, you’d be my first. The first ‘wolf I’ve worked with.” Stiles smiles wide and bright as a pleased rumble echoes from Hale’s chest. “You’d be the first to _knot_ me.” Stiles wants to punch the air when Hale’s eyes flash red and the pitch of his growl changes minutely. He laughs, “Oh, this is gonna be _awesome,_ ” Stiles says as he leans even closer. Hale’s eyes go slightly hooded and Stiles doesn’t miss the way they rake up and down his body, lingering too long on his neck. Stiles bares it slightly as he peers over Hale’s forearm to snatch a glance at the paper.

After finding what he’s looking for he turns his head to look at Hale, their faces only a few inches apart. Stiles purposefully licks his lips and breathes in on reflex when Hale’s eyes follow the slip of his tongue, hazel eyes slowly bleeding red in obvious interest.

Stiles’ voice is almost a whisper as he breaks into an excited smile, “Let’s go make some porn, Derek.”

* * *

There’s a tense moment when he's spotted. Derek’s just slipping off his jacket and putting his effects into the little basket with his stage name on it; D, and he wonders how long it’ll be before the jokes start. The entire crew is either blatantly _not_ staring or going out of their way to look him over as though he’s on exhibit. Derek wants to snap and snarl at them. Even after two years in the business as a known ‘wolf he always gets the same treatment from humans. It gets tired quickly.

The moment is broken when his co-star, _M_ _iles_ _Stark_ the production order says, joins him in stripping and changing. The red sleeveless hooded top he wore is folded and placed inside his own basket, phone, keys, and wallet deftly placed on top before they're covered by the quickly shucked jeans and socks. And now all Derek can think is; _skin._ So much pale, dotted skin he wants to cover with his mouth. He can feel himself harden at the thought of being the one mark it up, leave his claim. His teeth start to lengthen into fangs when he remembers Miles’ admission that Derek would be his first ‘wolf, his first _knot_.

Standing in just dark green boxer briefs Miles looks delectable as he fishes inside a drawstring bag. He pulls out soft grey pants and a butt plug with a T-bar base. Derek is still clothed, just staring when he notices Miles smirking.

“Like what you see?” Miles asks.

Derek’s practically salivating at the sight of him, “Yes.” No point in lying after all.

“I’m glad.” Comes the honeyed reply, somehow delivered with Miles looking _up_ at him from under his lashes even though they’re the same height. “I have to admit I was kinda worried when you showed up looking like you do. I mean, I know you have to have a certain amount of _something_ to work in this business, and you’re a ‘wolf so the gene pool was probably good to you in some respect, but it would have been awkward and more than a little embarrassing if I didn’t do it for you or if the fluffers couldn’t get a reaction.”

“You did it for me when I heard you laugh for the first time.” Derek blurts, only slightly embarrassed. It's true though, Miles' lack of nervous disposition at being in close proximity to a werewolf is refreshing.

Miles stills slightly and regards Derek with a slight tilt to his head. “Haven’t heard that one before,” He replies almost curiously, as though trying to figure out Derek’s angle.

The costumer nervously interrupts their exchange and hands two silk robes to Miles, one almost a pure white, the other black. Miles rolls his eyes and hands the black one to Derek. “I guess _this_ one is mine. Always white in these situations,” He mutters.

Derek raises an eyebrow in silent question as he finally begins to change. He pulls off his t-shirt and unbuckles his jeans, Miles replies as he strips off his boxer briefs and dons the robe.

“White for a bride? Like as though I’m some pure damsel who’s going to be ravaged by a marauding beast.” Miles snorts as he ties the robe with a deft bow, “Nothing fucking _virginal_ about me-”

Derek looks over at Miles when he cuts off, a wave of pure _lust_ hitting his nose when he catches Miles staring at him in all his glory. He’s fully naked now and just holding the black robe ready to put on. It’s obvious how attracted he is to Miles by the hang of his cock. It’s thick and heavy between his legs, uncut and half hard within a small patch of finely trimmed hair. The happy trail that runs up his torso is also finely trimmed, groomed to perfection and accents his lithe muscles. There’s a band of skin that wraps around his cock near the base. It’s darker, the skin a little loose and slightly wrinkled. Miles’ eyes are fixated on that one area; obviously understanding that’s where the knot forms.

Derek’s eyes glow red, his cock hardening further under Miles’ watchful gaze, cheeks flushed red, and breathing heavy. Derek can hear Miles’ heart thudding strong in his chest, can see his eyes dilating and growing wider, tongue going wild over his lips as he watches Derek’s cock bloom into its full hardness. Something trembles in Derek and his knot twitches in anticipation; he can’t wait to bury it in a human for the first time.

“Roll the cameras,” Derek orders the crew at large, knowing they have been watching and listening to them non-so-subtly. They hasten to obey the Alpha werewolf with crimson eyes as he stalks towards his prey, seemingly intent having a feast. There’s no true script here, only guidelines, a theme; Beauty and the Beast. And oh, does the Beast want to come out and play.

Miles licks his lips again and mimics Derek’s footsteps in reverse. When his knees hit the bed he almost stumbles but catches himself quickly. Derek surges forward, hands covering Miles’ hips. He noses at Miles’ cheek, the one the camera can’t see, and sucks the lobe of Miles’ ear between his teeth.

“Traffic light safewords?” Derek asks in between nibbles, careful not to let his fangs grow and catch delicate human skin. Miles’ whimpers slightly when Derek’s cock brushes underneath the white robe, foreskin rolling slightly as he bucks gently from the sensation.

“Yeah,” Miles breathes, tilting his head back and baring his neck. Derek growls loudly and latches onto the bared flesh, sucking and nipping under his jaw, leaving little bruises in his wake.

Derek shifts his hands slightly on Miles’ hips, gripping them tightly but gently as he picks Miles up and deposits him on the bed. There’s a soft ‘oomph’ of surprise as he’s laid out on the grey sheets. Derek hovers over him, sucking more marks into his collarbone as Miles touches a hand gently against his hair. Derek pushes into the hand, giving permission, and Miles takes what he’s offered, running his fingertips through the short undercut.

Derek lets out a pleased rumble and moves further down Miles’ body, nuzzling into the thin patch of skin peeking through the robe. He takes one end of the tied bow between his teeth and, whilst looking up at Miles, tugs it slowly free.

Miles lets emits a punched out groan as he looks down at Derek, cheeks flushed, eyes almost pure black, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Derek grins savagely when he brushes aside the thin robe covering his prize and rakes his claws gently over Miles’ ribcage. He gets a delicious moan in response as the body arches under his touch and Miles’ legs part automatically.

Miles’ cock is oozing a steady drop of precome between them, the scent is maddening and Derek’s tongue aches for a taste, to really get his mouth around that pretty cock, suck it down to the root and not let up until Miles’ screams for him. He has to put that thought aside as it’s not safe right now, Derek can’t ensure his human teeth would stay that way if he wrapped his lips around it.

Instead, Derek goes lower, breathing hot against Miles’ balls, sucking harshly on his taint, pressing a knuckle into his prostate from the outside and making Miles whine. Derek grins, teeth fully shifted, eyes glowing and looking, for all intents and purposes, like the savage beast he plays. The cameras will pick up his look perfectly, aimed down the length of Miles’ body to watch as Miles arches again, neck bared, voice incoherent and whole body on display as Derek delves his tongue into the already loose hole.

Miles has one hand buried in his hair, the other in danger of ripping the sheets until it absently wanders towards his cock in a bid to relieve the torturous ache delivered by Derek’s tongue. Miles just gets his fingers closed around himself when Derek notices and snatches his hand away. Derek pins both his arms over his head now, claws digging in slightly. There’s a dangerous, feral snarl on Derek’s face and everyone stills.

Derek is thankful that Miles can’t smell the honest to God fear that erupts around the room as Derek opens his mouth and slowly, giving Miles time to safeword, noses Miles’ jaw to bare his throat and encloses the delicate flesh in between his teeth. He doesn’t bite down, just holds it tenderly, lathes his tongue over the ridges and bumps.

He holds his position for a few minutes, getting into a faux game of escape and chase with Miles; Derek would relax his jaw minutely to allow Miles to ‘struggle’ until Derek growled again and redeclared his dominance. It’s a good show for the cameras that are focused on the top half of their bodies. Which is what he wanted as he currently has three very slicked up fingers fucking in and out of Miles, twisting and scissoring until Derek thinks he’s loose enough. Only then does he remove his fingers, wipe them on the sheets and fully remove his teeth from around Miles’ neck.

There are little pink dots around Miles’ neck when Derek sits back to admire him; flushed, painfully aroused, dominated and _ready_. Derek can feel his own cock spit out a pulse of precome as he takes it all in; he’s never been so ready to fuck someone before. Miles doesn’t move, playing the part of captured and subdued pray perfectly, but his mouth curves slightly as though he knows what’s going on in Derek’s mind.

Derek smears the precome he’d spilled over Miles’ belly like lotion on the skin before rolling Miles over roughly. He uses a claw to cut the robe and tear it open down the middle, revealing even more skin; _unmarked_ skin. Derek immediately gets to work to rectify that. He palms the rounds of Miles’ ass and drags his claws down the length of Miles’ back, little white lines turning red in their wake. He nips at the small of Miles’ back, licks over each claw line along his skin, blows cold air down each wet trail and making Miles shiver.

Derek plasters his body against Miles’ back, letting his heavy cock settle between Miles’ cheeks, rutting slowly and making his intentions known. He sucks and licks at the back of Miles’ neck, who bares it to the side for more access. “Colour?” Derek whispers into Miles’ ear. “Fucking Emerald,” Miles mutters into the sheets, “Please, green.” He adds in true confirmation, rocking back the slightest amount into Derek.

Derek sucks a wet kiss just behind Miles’ ear before pulling his hips back until his cock slides over Miles’ hole. He holds his breath for a second as he sinks in. It’s plush, wet, hot and like molten silk around his cock. Derek lets out a low snarl as he bottoms out, the skin of his knot feeling like it’s vibrating he’s so desperate for release. Only through discipline is he able to keep the monster at bay and grind slowly into the warm body below him.

Miles is panting harshly, body taught with a hand snaked under his torso. Derek spreads Miles’ cheeks to watch as he pulls out a few inches before sinking back inside with a strangled groan from Miles. Only Derek’s ears pick up the strained, “Gonna make me come, dude” directed at him, so he soothes his partner with long broad strokes of his palms over his back and shoulders, stays as still as he can whilst Miles comes back from the edge. Derek doesn’t want him to come just yet, he knows exactly when he wants that to happen.

The camera crew is confused for a second when Derek’s demeanour changes. His claws retract and his fangs recede, only his eyes are glowing when he addresses the crew, “You’ll have to cut this bit out.”

* * *

Stiles can just about make out the crews surprised faces. _A werewolf with restraint? Shocker._ Their eyes flick to Stiles when he twists around to catch Hale’s eyes, his heart skipping a beat at the looming bulk of hot muscle. Fuck, Stiles is quickly developing a new kink.

He swallows, throat dry as he breathes out in gratitude, “Thanks, man.”

Stiles twists an arm around to raise his torso so he can see over the swell of his ass to see where Hale’s groin is nestled against his ass cheeks. Stiles bites his lip and clenches his internal muscles wrapped around Hale’s cock. Hale lets out a truly filthy moan at the sensation.

“Come on, big guy. Take two.” Stiles says as he lets his grin fade and resumes his prior position face down in the sheets before their self-interruption.

Stiles’ ass aches, as it always does during a rough fuck. Hale’s cock is nowhere near the largest thing he’s ever had in his ass, he’s been fisted a few times, but it’s certainly the most pleasurable. There’s just something about the entire situation they’re in, the script and theme that was chosen for them, that fits perfectly. Their bodies work well together; Stiles in the role of captured conquest ready to be manhandled, Hale in the guise of a marauding beast intent on sating the most primal need to fuck.

He moans low in his throat when Hale’s growl starts again, signaling the restart of their scene. Hale shifts so his body hovers fully over Stiles’ back, knees on either side of Stiles as he starts a slow deep fuck that graduates into a harsh deep pounding that rattles his core. It’s powerful, strong, monstrous, and amazing and the slap of skin on skin, low grunts and groans echo in the air. It’s the hardest fuck of his life; _werewolf strength_ , Stiles thinks.

It’s _blissful_ ; the slick glide of the heavy cock moving in his ass and rubbing over his prostate with every stroke; the hot puffs of breath against the vulnerable parts of his neck making him wish Hale _would_ just clamp down with his teeth and hold him still; the hands fisted in the sheets on either side of his head, thumb claw so close Stiles could stick out his tongue and almost reach it.

Suddenly the shadow over him is gone, replaced by a wash of cold that Stiles feels down to his core; it’s a dangerous feeling for someone in his profession, this yearning to feel that particular body over him again. _Shit_. Stiles needs to focus, but it’s hard to do when his only job is to lie back and take it. It’s even harder when he’s being handled firmly but delicately, like a treasured artefact in the care of its adoring owner.

Hale slips out from Stiles, leaving him feeling so open and exposed, but quickly turns him over onto his back. The scraps of torn robe are discarded as Hale hikes Stiles’ legs over his thighs, cock kissing his rim again as Hale grabs onto his waist and curls over him, bending him in the middle.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Hale says lowly, bright red eyes boring into his own for a moment too long before Stiles’ eyes widen. He’s going to fuck Stiles _now_? What on earth was he doing before? Warming up?

 _Oh shit,_ Stiles can barely get the thought in his head before Hale starts thrusting again, sheathing himself fully in one long stroke before rabbit fucking at about 150 BPM. His hips are almost a blur as Hale seems to get faster, more frantic, changing his angle until he finds the perfect degree. Stiles actually screams as Hale’s cock punishes his prostate. Hale leans back and raises higher, supporting himself on only his knees and shins as he picks up Stiles’ body as he fucks it, Stiles’ shoulders, arms and head the only parts of his body still touching the sheets.

Stiles cock is slapping wetly with every pound of Hale’s hips, he can feel his balls draw up as he watches the beast using his body like a ragdoll snarl and let his face shift fully. Stiles can feel the skin at the base of Hale’s cock getting hotter and hotter until it starts to swell, the thrusts getting shorter and shorter until the stabbing little pounds of his prostate throw Stiles over the edge.

It’s wordless when he comes, come spraying seemingly everywhere as Stiles’ body goes taught, making the obvious swelling in his ass more apparent and making his orgasm so much better. He’s breathless and feeling a bit brain dead when clawed hands curl under his back and grip his shoulders from behind. Stiles cracks his eyes wider and blinks through tears to see a maw of sharp fangs descending on his neck as he feels the final _pop_ of swelling from Hale’s knot and the first little spurt of searing hot come flood his ass. Stiles automatically bares his neck and Hale _roars_ against his throat as the little spurts become torrents inside him.

“Oh my God,” Stiles whispers and moans weakly at the _heat_ being pumped inside him.

They lie still for a few moments, crew silent and forgotten by the fucked out pair until Stiles can feel the furry face shoved against his neck recede back to human. A tongue lathes over any salty skin it can reach and Stiles just luxuriates in the wet bath of that soft, rough tongue, the snuffle huffs of breath Stiles knows is werewolf scenting, and the calm, still ache he feels all over.

He feels so sated lay there, basking in the afterglow and only moves a muscle when Hale seems to come out of his post orgasm brain fog enough to realise what he’s doing. The movement of tongue stops, the weight lifts off Stiles’ body slightly, and Hale rests his temple against Stiles’ left bicep, looking up at him with tentativeness in his eyes. For all the surety and dominance he’d just shown, the ‘were still knotted in Stiles’ ass looks all for the world like he’s ready to run away if told to.

Stiles smiles brightly down at Hale, curling his left hand down to card trough his short black hair, squeezing the nape of his neck ever so gently in reassurance. He can feel the entire line of Hale relax as he settles back down between Stiles' thighs, Stiles’ legs wrapped loosely around his back. Hale smiles up at Stiles, eyes bright and pleased, and when the smile turns into a full toothy grin Stiles thinks it’s like the sun has appeared.

* * *

 

Derek thinks Miles looks beautiful like this, eyes heavy with sleep, sated and content, as they lie together and wait for Derek’s knot to soften. The crew is checking footage, cleaning up as best they can and generally giving Derek a wide berth. Miles himself didn’t try and get away from him. He didn’t flinch at his touch, nor does he smell of fear or pain. He did nothing other than reassure Derek he was okay, unhurt, _unafraid_.

Miles hums and wriggles under Derek, pulling on where they’re connected and letting out a gasp as the knot shifts slightly. “Dude, you’re heavy.” He says, torn between trying to instinctively move away from the heavy object that is Derek’s muscle mass and trying to stay still to avoid seriously hurting either of them. “How long-” Miles huffs as he gives up his futile wriggling, “-does this thing last?”

Derek shrugs as best he can in his position, but answers out loud as well. “Dunno. Varies.” His voice is scratchy, rough from his time spent growling. Miles makes an annoyed noise and Derek elaborates, “It varies between partners, some longer, some shorter. Depends on how long it’s been, the attraction...” Derek huffs, “Could be anywhere between 10 minutes and an hour and a half.”

Miles groans and tries to wriggle again. Derek’s instincts are impatient with their wriggling pray and long to pin Miles down until he submits. Instead, Derek sighs and pulls back onto his knees, arms snaking under Miles’ body to support his back and head as Derek falls back so Miles is suddenly on top.

Miles lets out a bark of delighted laughter then a deep groan as the knot shifts again. Derek cups his hips and watches as Miles languidly rocks back and forth, little jolts of pleasure zinging up Derek’s spine with the motion. Derek can’t help how his eyes glow again, his palm snaking to feel the rippling skin on Miles’ torso, as the body above him undulates. It’s a sinful, practised move that makes Derek wish he wasn’t knotted inside him, makes him want to lie back as Miles rides him, makes him _want_.

Miles picks up the pace slightly, using Derek’s chest as leverage as he tugs himself on the knot, letting it shift as it deflates and rub over his sensitive prostate. He whines softly at the overstimulation but doesn’t stop, only keeps eye contact with Derek and gasps as he feels the come inside him start to dribble out as Derek’s knot finally softens.

He slows his pace and lifts his hips so Derek’s fully soft cock slips out, come covering their thighs. Miles leans forward and rests his cheek on Derek’s chest, finally stretching his legs out with a deep sigh. Derek snags the water bottle a crew member had left on the prop bedside table for them and cracks the lid. He tilts Miles’ head up and angles the bottle to his lips, letting the water trickle slowly between parched lips. Miles looks amused, still soft and pliant as Derek sits them up after taking his own fill of water.

“Shower?” Miles asks. Derek grunts in agreement and gives Miles’ ass a little tap so he gets up first as Derek isn’t sure Miles can support himself enough to not faceplant on the small patch of carpet. Which is exactly what would have happened if Derek hadn’t expected it and caught Miles around the middle.

“Shit. Thanks.” Miles says, giving Derek a sheepish grin. “Really did a number on me, huh?”

Derek rolls his eyes and keeps an arm around Miles’ torso as they enter the small wet room and get the water running. Miles angles the shower head almost directly vertical before sitting on the floor underneath, letting the water pound down on him from above. The water spray is interrupted when Derek stands under it himself, looming over Miles and getting a weak, amused glare in return.

Miles’ eyes flick down to where Derek’s cock is now level and his eyes narrow, flicking over every inch of it in interest. He licks his lips and looks up at Derek, “May I?” Derek nods, having been watching the blatant curiosity with a measure of his own. No-one’s ever been interested in his cock before from an intellectual standpoint, it’s weirdly endearing.

Miles wraps a soft hand delicately around the middle and uses a thumb to pull down the foreskin. He takes care not to press on the glands, knowing they’re more sensitive after a fuck, and only lightly brushes his fingertips over the red, tender, and wrinkled flesh of Derek’s deflated knot. The inspection is quickly over, but Derek has a feeling Miles could have spent a lot longer playing with it. He’s thankful though, because even if he doesn’t mind Miles having a look at what was just stuffed up his ass he doesn’t appreciate being fondled by someone who’s almost a complete stranger, that’s something reserved for true partners.

A hand is proffered and Derek helps haul Miles onto his feet, legs seemingly a bit more steady, and they play fight over the water spray. Derek teases Miles’ nipples as he _helps_ him wash, Miles retaliates with a large excess of shampoo in Derek’s hair, causing it to foam into a huge mound that drips down his face. It’s _fun_. It’s nothing like Derek’s ever experienced before, both on the job and off. Miles seems to think the same if the curious looks he shoots him are anything to go by.

They rinse the suds away and Derek grabs a towel to dry off. Miles just stands there with his arms held out seemingly waiting for Derek to rub him down. Derek growls and throws the towel over Miles’ hair, rubbing it roughly, he tickles his ribs and gets a laugh, Miles squirming and gasping to get away. Derek lets Miles have his mercy and uncovers Miles’ flushed face centimetres from his own.

The air goes still and heavy as they breathe in each other’s space, eyes glancing to lips and away. Derek uses the towel around Miles’ neck to tug him millimetres closer but diverts his kiss to Miles’ cheek instead. He breathes against the skin, eyes closed and feeling like a fool. _What is he doing?_ He lets go of the towel and looks at Miles, expecting disappointment from a mislead kiss or annoyance from a supposed ‘professional’ colleague trying to hit on him. What he sees instead is something steady, something gentle.

Miles is smiling slightly and removes himself from Derek’s space, using the towel from around his neck to dry off his body. The moment is over, passed. But not slighted. And Derek, surprisingly, is okay with it.

**Author's Note:**

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